


Divided Loyalties

by cerie



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: 2014 Olympics, F/M, Fluff, Married Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 16:58:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerie/pseuds/cerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You don’t get to switch countries at will, Mac. That’s not how the Olympics work.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Divided Loyalties

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Callie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callie/gifts).



“You don’t get to switch countries at will, Mac. That’s not how the Olympics work.” MacKenzie frowns a bit and turns her attention back to the television. She and Will don’t normally watch television in bed but for the Olympics, they make an exception, especially since running News Night means getting home in time to catch the replays if they’re lucky. MacKenzie has her entire Saturday planned out based on which Olympic events are must-watch and which are decidedly-not (she’s invested terribly in Figure Skating and less so in Slopestyle Snowboarding) and she thinks she’ll have time to eat and do research for next week in between a jam-packed schedule of Hockey, Curling and Skiing.

“I can switch from Great Britain to America whenever I please,” she informs him primly, sucking the last bit of yogurt from her spoon and handing it, along with the empty cup, to Will. “Could I possibly convince you that it’s a good idea to go into the kitchen and get me another yogurt? One of the blood orange Chobanis?” Will sighs and MacKenzie wonders if she’s applied enough leverage. She’d once been an expert at this, pushing and pulling at Will’s strings, but it’s been a steep learning curve over the past year and three months. She bites at her lower lip and gives him her best doe eyes; Will sighs again and plucks the yogurt cup from between her fingers and slides out of bed. Mission accomplished. 

“You’ve got to choose, Mac. Team USA or Team Britain. You can’t flip-flop based on who’s higher in the standings,” Will calls out, voice muffled a bit by distance. MacKenzie doesn’t bother getting up, merely calls out from the bedroom that she can too decide her nationality on the fly and he’s just jealous that when he was born he was swaddled in an American flag and cried star-spangled tears. Will snorts and comes back, offering her now-clean spoon and a fresh cup of yogurt. 

“Thanks, honey. You remembered I don’t like mixing flavors and everything,” MacKenzie murmurs, leaning over and pressing a kiss against his cheek. Will turns his face at the last minute and she catches his mouth instead. Will tastes of a little bit of scotch and faded tobacco all sealed up with a bit of mint from the gum he’d had after coming in from smoking. MacKenzie appreciates how he always thinks of her when it comes to his vices, how he always tries to accommodate _her_ tastes in something that is still decidedly his selfish habit. It’s not as good as him quitting smoking entirely but she appreciates it all the same. 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want you upset. You’re my wife, I’m usually happier if you’re putting out and not put out.” MacKenzie sticks her tongue out at him and Will playfully nabs it between thumb and forefinger, tugging oh-so-lightly before dropping his fingers away. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that your face would get stuck that way if you kept sticking your tongue out? Mine did and I was practically raised in a barn. I would expect a fine English lady like you to have some manners.”

“And I would expect a Nebraska farm boy to not insinuate I’m going to put out,” MacKenzie retorts. It’s all good-natured now, their bickering. Sure, it gets heated when it’s a work argument or a politics argument but for the most part now she and Will get along really well. Will is always incredibly mindful of how cutting and hurtful he can be and he reels it in, thinks before he speaks, and tries not to lash out in anger as a defense mechanism in lieu of extending the olive branch. MacKenzie, too, has had to work at this. Her natural tendency is to pop off and say whatever she’s thinking whenever she’s thinking it but she’s learned that marriage is a compromise. Marriage is about giving even when you don’t want to give and receiving when you don’t realize it’s you who needs it. It’s all about compromise on everything from big to small and she’s learned that not every battle is a battle worth fighting; sometimes it’s just easier to sigh and go back and close the cabinets she’s left open or to replace the cap on the toothpaste. 

(Most of their domestic arguments stem from MacKenzie’s all-over forgetfulness and cluttered nature but she’s sure there’s _something_ Will does that drives her mad. She just hasn’t found it yet.) 

“England’s not going to pull it out in this team Figure Skating competition,” MacKenzie says sadly, regretting her choice once she sees the ladies single competition. The American was actually quite good, much better than she’d apparently been the month before at US Nationals, and Britain is woefully in the bottom of the standings. Well, fuck. No going back now, is there?

Will smirks and catches her left hand in his, pressing a kiss against her wedding ring. The diamond presses into his lower lip and when he pulls away, it’s a little red. It’s one hell of a diamond. MacKenzie’s surprised she hasn’t killed herself with it yet, much less someone else, and the lack of bodily injury only proves that she _can_ be graceful when it counts. Or something like that. 

“You’re married to an American,” he murmurs, turning her hand over and laying a kiss in the center of her palm. “I think, given your father’s diplomatic status,” he kisses her wrist, “and your marriage certificate,” a kiss to the bend of her elbow with just a hint of teeth, “you’re more American than you are English. With that in mind, given IOC rules, country of residence, blah blah blah, I would say you can switch back to Team USA if you really, truly want to. But you’ve got to stick with it, Mac. Americans don’t give up.” 

MacKenzie reaches out blindly behind her and deposits the yogurt and spoon on her bedside table before wrapping both arms around Will’s neck. Her hands play lightly in the hair at the nape of his neck and she spends a moment just looking into his eyes, wondering how in the hell she was so lucky as to get a second chance with someone so incredible. Will _is_ incredible and he puts up with her bullshit on a daily basis and MacKenzie really, honestly, will never understand how they put it all back together again.

As she touches her lips to his, the Star-Spangled Banner starts playing in the background and she can’t help but whisper softly against his skin, “God Bless America, then. I’m Team USA for the rest of the Olympics.” 

So long as England doesn’t start kicking ass and taking names at Curling.


End file.
